Visions Of A Son
by Kyris
Summary: AU- AoshiMeg. A young man barely entering adult-hood, Sasuke is determined to use his gifts to learn more about his parents; the silent man with eyes as cold as ice, and the woman whose passion for life lent him courage to seek the truth
1. Prologue

A/N:

This was supposed to be the one-shot I promised, but it seems to want to become a story of its own ^_^ Anyway, thanks to Mij who agreed to be my beta-reader. She's helped heaps with improving my chapters, so a HUGE thank you!

Now, on with the story!

**Visions Of A Son**

Names… names were not important. Sasuke knew that very well, trusting the strange compelling urge within to lead him to the place.

The wind ripped through the trees overhead, sending down a flurry of dark and wet leaves to twine into the midnight darkness of his hair. A small arrogant flick of his fingers sent his bangs flying aside, momentarily revealing electrifying blue eyes against pale skin, only to be hidden once again by the fringe. Cut to the very image of his father, he had been told over and over again.

That arrogance, he was told, was his mother's.

Who were these people, whose only label was mother and father? His parents? Who _were_ his parents? All Sasuke knew was what others had told him; that he was the very image of his father but for the paleness of skin and the long delicate hands of his mother. All he knew of them was that they had left him two gifts, one of which was life itself. Nothing more, nothing less. What he had _heard_ was something entirely different.

However, here in the darkness, he knew names were not important. What was important was the twisting inside him, the pull that his feet could not resist. He could _feel_ the energies, so familiar and yet so alien, calling for him to come.

Calling for him to _know_.

No one knew where this gift came from. Those closest to his parents argued about it continuously. His father was well-known for his flair in battle; for his ungodly reflexes that made it seem almost as though he was reading his enemy's mind, for his ability to detect others' presence, and his amazing talent to hide whatever he was thinking so his opponents thought they were battling stone. Yet Sasuke knew his father was in turmoil; a fire burned through his father, raging for justice and demanding vengeance. For him to take back something… something precious… That was why he meditated on all things, seeking out that elusive being of peace, calm and serenity.

The call for justice burned through even him, his son. And this no one had told him.

On the other hand, not a lot of people knew about his mother. All they knew about her was that she was a powerful doctor, in the sense that she instinctively knew what was wrong with a patient without them having to tell her. And there was her Touch; it was almost as though she didn't even need medicines to cure people. Some of them claimed to feel a strange warmth emanating from her hands that, once touching their skin, seemed to melt all the pain away. 

_Perhaps that's why father was drawn to her_, Sasuke often mused, _perhaps__ he found she was the only one who could heal his burning pain._

He had been told so much, yet he knew so little…

The echo of his footsteps, well-made runners on rough concrete, shook him out of his thoughts. His pace slowed down as he found himself nearing an alley, and he found the strange urge that had led him there to have almost disappeared.

_Is this the place?_ Uncertain, he looked around. Dank and dirty, with the offending smell of something long dead and buried lurking around the corners, it was a far cry from the leafy emerald parks and sapphire lakes people had told him about.

_Did father meet mother here?_

He touched a wall gingerly, the well-bred self in him appalled at the slime that seemed to saturate it. Nonetheless, he pressed his palm against it, willing himself to ignore the ooze, the dirt and muck that had far eroded the paint into crumbling brick and mortar.

In his other hand he held a sheathed sword.

"This was your father's." His grandfather Okina – "Old Okina", Sasuke had privately labelled – held an object out to him. 

Any words of dismissal died in Sasuke's throat as his pale eyes fell upon the sword. A creation of metal and fire, cooled by water and danced through air, he thought it was the most delicate of all creations he had seen. And the energies he had felt through it were pure, as pure and powerful as the elements that forged it.

Had his father thought the same? Had he really wielded it in battle, famous as he was for it?

He concentrated on sorting through the residing energies in the sword; few people had handled the weapon, so it made his task easier. He inspected each remnant closely as wisps of colour rose to greet him. What he was looking for should be similar to his own aura…

Aha. Sasuke's lips twitched. A smile that spoke of a job well-done glimmered in the night for a moment. He had found it; a red hot flame encased in the coolness of ice. That was what his father's energy felt like – the dazzling explosive power of fire tempered by the cold calculating reasoning of ice. Keeping the energy in hand, he turned his attention to the bricks.

Bricks were good. Bricks were stone, and stone was like steel. Both stood firm against the current of time, both held memories of those that passed however briefly. However, it was easier to pry them from stone than steel, so he was fully confident he could handle it.

A moment's silence passed. A fierce wind whipped his jeans against his legs, grabbing hold of his coat and frantically trying to tug it away.

_Leave_, he almost heard it say, _leave and don't look back_.

.oOOo.oOOo.

"Leave now."

A woman, unusually tall for a Japanese woman, pressed herself against the brick wall. Dark eyes wide and frightened, she only saw the man holding a long blade that glinted painfully in the midday sun.

At his feet lay the bodies of three men whose guns were still clenched in their hands. The wall behind him was marked with several bullet holes only a few inches away from his side.

Even without seeing what had happened earlier, Sasuke still knew that the dead men were excellent marksmen. It was just that this man, now sheathing the deadly-looking sword – a kodachi – was just too fast for the bullets to hit.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help but think, _no one told me Dad was so cool!_

In reply to the man's order, the woman cautiously took a step away from the wall, which meant taking one closer to the killer. Now she masked her fear with a haughty toss of her head, sending her long black hair over her shoulder. "Or you will kill me like you killed them?"

A shake of the head and eyes as blue as the sky above peered past long bangs. The rich timbre of his voice announced him to be young, much too young to know how to despatch three men with such ruthless efficiency, "Just leave before someone comes to claim you."

"I am a doctor. I cannot leave people who need help."

The conviction in her tone earned her a sceptic arch of his eyebrow, "You would help those who tried to harm you?"

She met his gaze with one of her own, prideful youth clearly showing in her delicately beautiful features. "Of course."

.oOOo.oOOo.

The vision vanished as fast as it had come.

His hand dropped away from the wall, moisture and muck dripping off his fingers onto the pavement below. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

Frustration welled up inside him. Fragments! He had only fragments when what he wanted was the entire picture. The vision had only whetted his urge to sneak out into the dark world and find out the truth about his parents.

No more listening. No more relying on others to catch glimpses of what his parents were like. He wanted to _know_. He wanted to know if his father was as ruthless as people told him he was. He wanted to know if his mother was as beautiful and as cunning as people told him she had been. He wanted to know how they met, how they had come to rely on each other. He wanted to know how two people could fall for the other when they were both so different. He wanted to _know_ so much!

It didn't matter. He let himself take a step away from the wall, sword still in hand. It didn't matter because this was only the beginning. He had to remind himself of that. Everything would come to him. All he needed was patience. A thorough rinse of his hands with the water bottle he had brought with him and he was off, going back onto the main road to stroll among the shadows that resided there.

All he had to do was focus and trust his intuition to lead him where he needed to go next. To where the next vision would be presented to him.

_This_ was the second gift his parents had given him, that no one knew which of them gave to him. The gift of Sight*.

As Sasuke allowed his feet to once again have free rein, he allowed his mind to dwell. The trick with energies and tracking them was not to think about it too much; it took only a moment's doubt for the logical mind to override intuition, and once that happened it would take time before the logical mind could be placated to take the back seat once again.

Right now, to distract his mind, he thought of his mother.

The vision had shown him a woman he had often seen in photos. There were very few scattered here and there in the house, all of which he had eagerly grabbed to store in his small box of memories.

Right now, he held one grasped in his hand. He could sense the familiar energy patterns unique to his father. Had his father held this photo the way he had? It was the best one he had found; his mother's slim form curled up in an oversized black leather chair, dozing by a dying fireplace. Several large books were scattered around the foot of the chair while one huge tome lay open on her lap. It was a peaceful picture.

He wondered who took the photo. His father? Old Okina? Who knew who else had wandered the halls of the house his parents had lived in?

But certainly, and his grip tightened onto the lone photo, there was a lot of love in this picture. And try as he might, he could not pick up anything else.

_Now_ he looked up. His feet had taken him to a street, wide and mostly empty. The few people who were there nodded to him. They knew Sasuke, and if anything, they knew his sword. Here was his father's legacy; all the gangs littering the streets of Japan recognised and respected his father. As his son, he was practically guaranteed protection anywhere, anytime.

Which was a good thing, considering that though the kodachi was his, he had no talent whatsoever in wielding the deadly weapon. His hopelessness was a source of eternal vexation for Old Okina, who had once asked Sasuke whether or not he wanted the words 'stick this end into enemy' engraved on the blade.

Back to the task at hand. Sasuke found himself kneeling down onto the pavement, the coldness of the cobbles seeping through the thick denim of his jeans. He let his fingertips brush the surface of the stone, silently pleading it to let him through…

People. He sensed a lot of people milling around. But they were there only as shades of grey; drab impressions against the brilliance of the morning sunlight.

Something directly in front of him caught his attention - a slender leg clad in simple white jeans, crossing itself daintily over its partner. A chink of ceramic above suggested someone stirring a cup of something.

He raised his head, barely registering the table he passed through as he righted himself. He took a deep appreciative sniff – tea. A particularly bright tang that assailed the senses with the cheery scent of… orange? Or was that the sharpness of peppermint? It was hard to tell, in this vision.

_One thing's for sure though. Mother had high standards._

His mother's voice shook him out of his own thoughts, "Do you make it a habit to take captives out for coffee?" Her tone was teasing, her words chosen to get a rise out of the man sitting across her.

His father.

Realization struck him then; here was the chance to see his parents close up! 

He took a tentative step closer to the silent man still seated and leaning back against the chair. He picked out each feature, blue-grey eyes widening as he realized each was a mirror-image of his own, if only slightly older.

Right now his father must be only a few years older than himself.

"You know, Aoshi, it'd be nice if you could answer me once in a while." The resignation in the woman's tone told him she didn't expect miracles; she was merely venting. 

Sasuke watched as his father calmly took a sip of the coffee. Black, he noticed, with the pungent bitter aroma that only a double shot short espresso could achieve.

"No wonder you never sleep," the woman continued, her cherry red lips pursed into a hard line whilst chocolate brown eyes glared with disapproval at his cup, "You keep on poisoning yourself with that slop."

"One would think you would stop nagging," came Aoshi's quiet reply.

A brilliant grin then that illuminated her beautiful features, and it was obvious all her previous disapproval was for show. Voice sweet, "_Purely_ to start conversation, I assure you."

He set his cup down carefully. Youthful though his features were, any possible expressions he could have had were tempered by his icy exterior. Now however, the ice melted a little. "Megumi…" he turned his cup slightly, his eyes fixed on her face to watch her expression, "Do you wish to be a doctor?"

Her answer was immediate, "What does that have to do with this outing?"

"Everything."

A small moment of contemplation, and Sasuke realized he was holding his breath. There was a strange fluttering in his stomach, a twisting that made him feel nauseated. He chewed his lip nervously; these emotions were not his. Whose was it?

He glanced at his mother. Passion and fire lit up her face, and it was obvious she was suspicious of the question put to her. No, not her.

He looked to his father. Was this emotion his? But he was so calm! So collected! How could this horrible nervousness be his?

Sasuke realized it then with a start; his father was as good with masks as he was with his swords. _This_ must be the source of the ice in his energies.

"Megumi," and here the nervousness kicked it up a notch, "I'm willing to fund your medical degree, and any degrees you wish to pursue following that."

She blinked the astonishment away, and the only thing betraying her shock was her sudden tight grip on her cup. "You want to sponsor me?"

A deep breath from his father. "Yes."

Sasuke watched her closely, though he didn't miss seeing his father do the same. It was clear she was struggling with the decision, extremely obvious that though a part of her wanted it, another was rejecting it flat out. Setting down her own cup, she steepled her fingers, not meeting Aoshi's eyes. Her comeback was bitter. "With the dirty money of the OniwaBanshuu? So you people will lay further claim on _me?_" Anger lent it a faint tremble as she fought to keep her emotions in check.

Sasuke saw his father's features harden. He felt the tenseness of Aoshi's words as he enunciated each word, "_I_ am sponsoring you. Not the OniwaBanshuu"

He sensed this was an old argument, from the weariness in his father's aura. From his mother however, he felt a rage building up. So much so it was almost a physical presence.

_Mother was such a passionate woman. How could she have ended up with a glacier like father?_

The cups atop the table rattled as she set her palm down with a bit more force than necessary, "And the difference is?" Now she met Aoshi's eyes, and the fury in hers would have driven a lesser man to look away, to mumble apologies and crawl back into the woodwork.

Not his father though. Did Sasuke just see his father's eyes narrow?

"This is money from my inheritance, not Kanryuu's dirty tricks." Calm, cool, collected. That was Shinomori Aoshi to a T.

The two regarded each other carefully. Sasuke saw his mother open her mouth, making what was most likely a scathing remark, but he couldn't hear it.

Then he saw nothing.

.oOOo.oOOo.

Sauke let his fingertips trail across the cobbles, the dampness of the stone barely registering. The vision had faded slowly, leaving him cold and lonely on the empty sidewalk.

The urge that had led him across dank alleys and dark roads had vanished, and he knew there would be no more searching tonight.

  
A/N:  
  
That's all for this chapter. Read it and tell me if you liked it!  
  
Sight* - originally I called this Second Sight, but then the term usually refers to the ability to foresee into the future.  



	2. Chapter 1: So Close, So Far

A/N:

  
I'm back! :D Yes after a long absence due to writer's block, and a whole heap of real life matters to attend to, I am finally back. And I need to thank everyone, everyone, for your emails, reviews and comments in my blog encouraging me to come back and write. Without you guys I wouldn't have had the motivation to pull through, so thank you. Hope you guys enjoy this part!

And yes, criticism is always welcomed :) 

  
**Chapter 1: So Close, So Far**

  
Sasuke was home. The corridor lights, dim as they were, seemed to beckon him to follow their passage. Knowing his guardian, the only illumination this house would have would be those that would lead him all the way to Sasuke's room.

Finding himself too exhausted, he instead plodded into the dark living room. The nights were still freezing despite spring being just around the corner, and despite all attempts to persuade him otherwise Old Okina was venomously against keeping the heater turned on throughout the night. For that reason, amongst others, Sasuke made his way by feel alone towards the large fireplace that dominated almost an entire wall. Within a few minutes, and after a few false starts, a cheery fire flooded the room with pleasant heat and golden light.

The large black leather chair was still there. A little worn after at least fourteen years of use, but was still comfortable. He crawled onto it, shrugging out of his damp coat and left it crumpled beside the chair.

Now he took the photo out, holding it carefully and tilting it slightly so the orange light of the fire illuminated the picture. A wry smile touched his lips briefly; how many times, exactly, had he tried to duplicate this exact scene? There was his mother, in the very same chair he was sitting in now, dozing by the very fireplace he had just lit.

Somewhere in the back of Sasuke's mind, a tiny voice mocked him for his pathetic attempts at trying to 'connect' with his parents.

But now he was simply content to look at the photo. The flickering of the flames brought the picture to life; shadows in the background shifted, the light played over his mother's curled up form. Sasuke could almost see the shifting strands of her hair as she stirred in the photo. The small movement as she absently brushed a lock of hair away from her face.

_Eh?_ He blinked. Was that his imagination?

The figure in the photo shifted again. His grip must have relaxed, for the photo slipped from his grasp, fluttering into the fireplace. "No!" he yelped as the flames eagerly embraced the photo.

He stumbled out of the chair after it. His hand darted into the flames, trying to ignore the pain as he groped wildly for it; that was his best picture of his mother  
There was no pain. There was no picture.

_Now_ Sasuke was _really_ confused.

What should have been a single piece of plastic was now a thick book, its pages yellowing before bursting into merry flames, its cover slowly curling in the blistering heat.

_What's happening?_

His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door. Automatically Sasuke glanced at his watch - 2.30am. "Okina?" he called out, climbing to his feet and turning to face the open doorway. No, it couldn't be the old man. He never slept later than midnight. "Hannya?"

A soft rustling of someone taking his coat off, followed by footsteps as a figure strode into the living room.

Sasuke's breath caught. The sudden lump that had appeared in his throat was gleefully constricting it. He couldn't take his eyes off the man who turned briefly to hang a long white coat on a convenient peg.

Shinomori Aoshi stood there, tall and silent, his eyes scanning the room. Sasuke felt his father's gaze sweep over him, unseeing, before resting on the black armchair.  
Takani Megumi was curled there, fast asleep, clad only in a simple oversized shirt. She was resting on her side, her legs pulled up to her chest whilst her cheek was pillowed by her palm. The other hand dangled over the side of the chair.

She looked exactly like she did in her picture.

Sasuke looked back at his father. The lump in his throat seemed to have grown into gargantuan proportions, and he was suddenly aware that his mouth was hanging open. However, Aoshi paid him no attention as he was still watching the peacefully sleeping Megumi.

Then his father's electric eyes met his own.

"Father?" Sasuke whispered, not really believing his father was actually there, but helpless against the hope blossoming in his chest. His father was there, and he was looking at him!

Words could not express the hope that filled his entire being, and could not express his shock when his father calmly drew his kodachi that hung loosely by his side.  
The weapon sang as it slid free from the long sheath, the light of the fire turning the silver metal into flaming gold.

Sasuke cried out in shock as in the very next second, the blade passed through him harmlessly to strike an object in the fireplace.

As it withdrew, Sasuke watched numbly as his father inspected the book dangling forlornly on the tip of the weapon, pulling it off to have a closer look at the spine and re-sheathing the sword in a single fluid motion. There was no change in Aoshi's expression, not a single acknowledgement to his son.

Megumi shifted slightly then; both Aoshi and Sasuke glanced her way. In that moment, Sasuke realized, eerily, that his father moved just like he did.

Or rather, he moved just like his father did.

Megumi's restlessness caused a lock of her hair to fall into her face, but Aoshi's hand tucked it back behind her ear. Sasuke noted his father's fingers slowed to absently stroke the silky strands, his touch lingering a second more than normal courtesy would have allowed him.

Meanwhile, Megumi mumbled softly, but settled back into calm slumber.

Still holding on to the burnt book, Aoshi headed back to the corridor, slipping the white coat back on, and the soft click of the door announced his departure.  
It could have been minutes or hours, but it felt as though it was only seconds; such was the twisting of time when in a vision. But now Aoshi had reappeared, this time with a brand new book in hand. Sasuke almost bit through his lip in shock as his father walked through him to lay the book gently in Megumi's lap. Aoshi then opened the book to a random page, turned to pick up a poker to stoke the fire a little, then left the living room as fast as he had come. From where Sasuke was standing, he saw his father disappear down the hall into the study, the door shutting with a finality that was like a slap to the face.

Sasuke's insides wrenched horribly, and he fell down onto his knees.

Vision or no, his mother was so close to him that he could see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, so close that he could almost see the individual eyelashes hiding her eyes that were so unlike his. And she looked so at peace with herself had she been that way when Sasuke was born? Had she been happy, to see her son? When she left him?

"Mom?" Sasuke whispered, reaching a hand out hesitantly, watching as it passed without resistance through his mother's sleeping form.

His hand clenched into a fist as hot tears trickled down his pale cheeks.

They were so close! They were _always_ so close, but he couldn't be with them regardless of what he tried. But then again, he was an idiot for hoping. His parents were gone, and no matter what happened it would never change the fact that they wouldn't ever come back.

Taking deep breaths to lessen the clenching in his chest, he sat down on the floor against the armrest, looking at Megumi's hand dangling over the side. It was so much like his own; pale, with long slim fingers suited for delicate tasks.

He wrenched his gaze away, burying his face in his arms as he pulled his knees up against him, struggling to stop crying.

Sasuke remained that way for a long time. The flames died down, the room fading into darkness, and he was still on the floor, still locked in the same position. Though he was now fast asleep, a last tear streaked down his arm.

Unseen by anyone, the rumpled coat beside him twitched slightly and slowly slid up around his shoulders to wrap itself around his sleeping form.

.oOOo.oOOo.oOOo.

  
"the young master?"

" dawn. Couldn't"

Bleary-eyed, Sasuke woke to find two silhouettes towering over him. The blinds of the windows were drawn, and the sunlight streaming in was blinding to his tired eyes. He did, however, recognise the reproachful tone of Old Okina, and the respectful voice of Hannya.

Hannya. The last of his father's loyal men who now dedicated his life to protecting Sasuke. What from, Sasuke would never be sure of, but Hannya was a good man to have as a friend.

"Sasuke, where were you last night? I was looking for you, boy." To anyone listening, they would have thought Okina to be a concerned relative looking out for a rebellious grandson, but Sasuke knew better.

"Okina, I don't want to spend my holidays accompanying you to single bars so you can use me as a conversation piece."

Having stood up, Sasuke could now clearly make out the old man's wrinkled features, which were beaming in a bright smile, "You may look like your father, boy, but you're definitely your mother's son."

"If you think you can bribe me with more stories of my parents, you're wrong." The sudden frown on Okina's face told him the harshness was uncalled for, but right now Sasuke didn't care. The events of last night had shaken him, and what he knew to be bloodshot eyes were testimony to the emotional night.

As Sasuke made his way to his room, he heard Hannya's calm voice telling Okina that he'll have a talk with him. In his mind's eye he saw Okina nodding sadly and felt the old man wondering why Sasuke always pushed him away.

_Maybe if you'd stop using my parents as bargaining chips I'd respect you more_, he thought bitterly.

~

A homemade concoction of orange, ginger and carrot juice in hand, Sasuke left the house in a slightly happier mood. After a shower to clear his head, he had found Okina in the kitchen. After a brief talk, Old Okina had graciously granted him forgiveness for his earlier rudeness in exchange for dinner; an exchange Sasuke was more than happy to make. A sulking Okina was more than he could handle.

But now he stood outside his house, surveying it. Though an old building, it had been renovated several times over to become the handsome house it was today, complete with a two car garage, a sandstone patio and a backyard pool. The newly added third floor was Okina's idea for Sasuke's welcome home gift; an entire attic to call his room.

Sasuke took a sip from the bottle in hand, slipping on a pair of slim sunglasses. The sun was particularly harsh today.

"Do you have any plans for today, young Master?"

Though used to Hannya's sudden appearances, Sasuke was still impressed. The man stood well over six foot and despite his well-developed build, he still managed to move silently without drawing attention to himself.

It was a remarkable feat considering Hannya wore a plain mask to hide his face, from which only a single dark eye peered out of. And despite the nineteen years of Sasuke whining, begging, pleading and downright ordering him to take the mask off, Hannya never did.

"I'm going to the cemetery" was Sasuke's simply reply.

A nod from the other man, "I hope you don't mind me coming along."

Sasuke shrugged, "Does it really matter?" He would rather prefer to go alone, but he knew regardless of what he said Hannya would still follow. Why, he didn't know.

"It matters."

Sasuke found no reply to the utter conviction in the man's tone, and so he left it at that.

~

Sasuke could barely restrain the shudder as he stepped onto the cemetery grounds. He hated the place, with its evenly trimmed grass, the fancy hedges and the tall leafy trees. He hated the unnatural silence that seemed to be embedded into the land itself.

Then there were the other visitors. He watched them, noting how they all seemed to have another person to share their grief. He was envious of that. He was envious of the closure they had.

"Frowning does not become you, Sasuke-san." Sasuke transferred his blue-eyed gaze from the couple laying flowers at a tombstone to the man walking beside him. If Hannya was not calling him young master, it was Sasuke-san.

"You know how I feel about this place" was his only reply.

It was, Sasuke reflected, the place where his gifts had first surfaced. As a child, when Okina and Hannya had brought him here and he had so innocently let it slip out, "Okina, why are there no lights with mom and dad?"

Here was the final reason why he hated cemeteries so much. His gift to see energies and auras had a slightly unsettling side effect; he could see spirit orbs. Out in the normal world it was rare to see any floating around. But here in the cemetery where so many people were laid to rest, the barriers between the physical and the spiritual realms were blurred.

Here those who had passed had a chance to slip back into the physical world if only for a few instances, blinking into existence as spheres of ectoplasm before disappearing again. For Sasuke, a cemetery was a mass of orbs constantly winking in and out of his vision, merrily floating in mid air, each bobbling beside a tombstone, each a reminder that a loved one was never gone.

But there were none beside his parents' graves. 

Now Sasuke had arrived at his parents' final resting site. Set aside from the main bulk of the cemetery, the graves were situated on a hill, shaded by a great tree whose purple flowers decorated the smooth marble of the headstones.

No lights here. No spirits to remind him his father and mother remained. To Sasuke, this area was cold and dark, devoid of the merriment the rest of the area enjoyed. And it hurt him more than he would ever care to admit.

Hannya however, perceptive as always, commented quietly, "Sasuke-san, no one is forcing you to come here."

Sasuke shook his head, "What is a son if he does not visit his parents?"

The headstones were cool to Sasuke's touch as he set incense into the appointed holders. The earthy fragrance of frankincense cleared his thoughts, and yet saddened him.

There would be no orbs to dance through the smoke.

A flash of purple caught his eye, and he saw Hannya lay an iris at the foot of a headstone, its polished golden plaque announcing, "Takani Megumi, 1984 - 2008."

"Your mother loved purple" was all the man offered.

Quietly Sasuke asked, "What else did my mother love?"

There was a short pause as both of them stared at the black and white photo next to the plague where Megumi's serene features smiled gently at them.  
"Your father." Sasuke picked up the admiration in the man's voice. Hannya had always thought very highly of Megumi, "And you. She prized the two of you above all others."

"Could you spare me what everyone's said, and just tell me what happened to my parents?"

"It is not for us to say, young Master." Hannya could be very gentle when he wanted to, despite his fearful appearance.

"Then who?" Sasuke pressed, unwilling to let this opportunity to slip past. If he could only persuade Hannya to tell him... "Don't lie to me, Hannya. Not here. Not in front of my parents' graves."

It was a dirty trick, and Hannya's sudden silence was an affirmation to that. Though Sasuke felt the guilt weighing down on him, he was determined to pursue the questioning.

"If you won't tell me, then who? Who can tell me what happened to my parents?" Now Sasuke's voice hardened, his words deliberately aimed to hurt, "You can't tell me it's _right_ for a son to not know why he grew up without his parents."

There was a very long pause as Sasuke glared at the mask, willing for the person hiding behind it to meet his challenge. Before him, Shinomori Aoshi's picture watched indifferently as Takani Megumi continued her calming smile.

"No, it's not right." Hannya's soft confirmation stunned him for a moment, and he almost missed the next words, "But it was what your father wished, and I will not go against it. Neither will Okina. But you will come of age, and only then can we tell you."

"Only then? _Then_?" Sasuke's frustration crept into his words now, "When will your _then_ be now?!"

"Soon" was Hannya's cryptic reply and Sasuke scowled, knowing that was the only answer Hannya would give him. 

And still his mother smiled. And still his father watched.

  



End file.
